


The Mercy In You

by Epiphanyx7



Series: The Mercy in You [1]
Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Angry Sex, Hate Sex, Infidelity, Jealousy, Kissing, Love/Hate, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-17
Updated: 2010-05-17
Packaged: 2017-11-01 12:28:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/356788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Epiphanyx7/pseuds/Epiphanyx7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This doesn't feel wrong. It should.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mercy In You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sparrowshellcat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparrowshellcat/gifts).



> Kink Bingo prize, for Sparrowshellcat. Beta'd by psychodelicate. Title is from the song of the same name by Depeche Mode. If this was a kink, it might be "rough sex", but it wasn't written with that in mind.

  


-

The sick and twisted thing is, Scott still loves Jean. He really, really does.

-

He also loves the strong, muscled planes of Logan's back, all sharp corners and corded muscles. There's nothing soft about Logan, nothing yielding, and yet Scott keeps coming _back_. He craves it, wants it all the time; the taste of Logan's skin hovering on the edge of his tongue.

He could, he thinks, hate himself for this (if it wasn't so damn good).

-

It's difficult to dress when he can feel Logan's eyes watching him, but Scott manages. A hot, sweet curl of shame flickers deep in his belly but he smothers it, shoves it far down. He's not -- like that. Not like Logan, who can stare at him as silently and oppressively as he likes. Scott loves Jean, he knows it for certain. She's his soul-mate -- his other half. This is something else, something that isn't love or peace or contentment, this is an addiction he hasn't been able to kick.

An addiction he's not sure he wants to.

He dresses hastily, in silence; forces himself to walk out of the room instead of run. Logan is still - naked, sweaty, sex-sated. Sprawled on the bed shamelessly, with the sheets slung low over his hips.

Scott doesn't look back.

-

Just this one time, Scott promises himself. Just this once, and never again. Never again, not even when he sees the way Logan looks at Jean, the way she fucking _looked back_ \-- and there it is, the flare of jealousy he can't contain, but something in him is twisted and dark and fucking scary, too. Scott isn't sure which one he's jealous of, but Logan shouldn't be looking at his girl like that. (Jean shouldn't be looking back.)

Lips cracking -- it doesn't seem to matter how much he licks them, they are always chapped and sore -- but Scott walks through the mostly-deserted hallways, knowing that there is absolutely nothing strange about his presence. This is his home. He's walked these hallways a thousand times (but this purpose is new and foreign to him, something he doesn't want to admit to himself, not yet).

It doesn't seem to matter how much he doesn't want this to happen. He seeks Logan out anyway.

-

Fucking bastard, smug and ageless, adamantium skeleton and skin that heals in a heartbeat. Every punch Scott throws heals in less than a second, and he thinks, for a moment, that he's broken his hand on Logan's cheekbone. Fucking bastard.

"Are you finished?" Logan asks, smirking.

-

The kiss is sloppy and wet, lips sliding together messily. Scott tries to hurry things along, bites at the line of Logan's lips, but the other man is much stronger than he is and refuses to be hurried.

The slow fall, then, Logan backing him up against the door to push him against the frame, holding him there as if he weighed nothing. It's not something Scott should like (Jean was never like this) but at the same time, it's Logan, and so Scott lets him.

This doesn't feel wrong.

It should.

The kisses are slow and languorous, wet and sensual in a way that kissing Logan has never been, not before, not when things were -- like this. It was just fucking, that's what Scott tells himself, it's just the second-best thing to Jean. But now Logan's kissing him like -- like this isn't just a fuck, isn't just a meaningless encounter.

Scott's hands fumble at Logan's shoulders, trying to push him away and not managing to do more than grab fistfuls of fabric.

"Come on," he snarls, and Logan responds by growling back. "Come on," Scott growls again, shoving Logan away, pushing him toward the bed. Logan stares at him, doesn't move, and Scott places both of his hands palm-flat on Logan's chest, feels the warm muscles shifting beneath the thin cotton t-shirt and the smooth planes of his skin.

"Come on," he says, once more. His voice falls between them, soft and pleading. It scares Scott, how much he wants this -- how much he needs.

Logan smiles at him, a knowing, irritating little smirk that has never stopped Scott from wanting to punch him in the face, or perhaps just shove him down and fuck him. He feels, somehow, that if he were to -- if he hit him, Logan would ---

It doesn't make any fucking sense, Scott thinks angrily, hauling Logan in for another bruising kiss. He tastes like cheap cigars and expensive beer, and his mouth is addictive as anything. It's hard to stop kissing him, hard to pull his lips away and mouth at the stubbled line of his jaw, to bite at the hollow of his throat, to tug desperately at the stupid shirt that, amusingly, seems to melt away when Logan pulls at it.

His bare skin is a revelation, a gift from the gods. It's unfair, how beautiful the man can be, muscular and hairy and yet somehow divine.

"Shut up," Scott says, even though Logan hasn't said anything at all.

Logan backs up, letting his knees hit the edge of the bed. Scott has to push at him, shove him downwards before Logan will fall, and the bed shakes with the impact as Scott falls with him.

This isn't something he knows how to do. Scott wants to panic, to run, to pretend that this isn't happening except instead of doing that he's straddling Logan on the bed, pulling the remains of his t-shirt off of him. It's the only thing he really can do, discarding the scraps of fabric on the floor and resting his fingertips on Logan's shoulder. He feels so warm, Scott realizes.

"Pay attention, Cyclops," Logan says, and Scott stops him, muffling his words with a kiss because it's the only way Logan will shut the hell up.

His hands slide down the other man's chest, pressing against the curve of muscle, finding warmth and comfort in the solid heavy beat of Logan's heart underneath his palm. "I'm going to fuck you," Scott promises, his lips brushing against Logan's with every whispered word. He knows that Logan will let him, but Logan smiles at him and shakes his head.

The other man grabs Scott by the waist, makes a twisting motion with his hips and suddenly Scott is on his back, a few hundred pounds of muscle and adamantium perched over him. "Not going to happen," Logan says, and it sounds like a promise. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide, and then Logan is grinding down against him, hot and heavy and perfect, friction just where Scott wants it.

Scott barely manages to suppress a shudder when Logan leans closer, whispers in his ear. "Tonight, I'm going to fuck you."

-  



End file.
